The Voldemort Diaries—Chapter 55 (Nott This Time)

June 2, 1938

"What are you waiting for? Kill it!" growled Mulciber at his chum.

"I don't want to kill it!" Quenby Nott shouted back, earning him a shove from the other. He raised his eyes, full of an emotion Mulciber understood instantly. The boy's voice lowered in volume and tone to an ominous command, "Just leave it alone. And leave me alone." The wand in his hand lowered, though he didn't put it in his pocket.

Mulciber backed away. He'd known this boy all his life, he realized when he'd pushed Nott too far, and this was it. If he said another word, he was liable to get hexed himself, and he'd rather not explain to the hospital staff where the boils came from, or why he sported a broken arm, or why his nose now resided on the back of his head.

"Fine, do whatever you want," Mulciber said. "I'll tell everybody you were too cowardly."

"Kiss my arse," retorted the other.

He waited till his friend had cleared out before kneeling in the dirt just inside the Forbidden Forest. He wrapped his outer robe round one hand and used it to gently pick up the baby bird that had fallen from the nest above. It flopped and twittered weakly in his palm. Examining it up close, he smiled to himself. It was so cute, so innocent; why would anyone want to kill it for the sake of killing it? Mulciber had serious issues.

Using his wand, he carefully levitated the tiny creature into its nest, then backed down the path, watching the nest to see if the mother returned. When he'd gotten too far, he turned and walked the remainder of the way across the grass to the castle.

Tom stepped out from behind a tree, peering at his comrade as he left.

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June 2, 1938

We go home for the summer in a couple of weeks. I don't want to go. This is the first time I've been away from the orphanage, and I like it. I wish I never had to go back. There is so much to do here, so much to learn, so much magic to practice, which I can't do outside of school. It's not fair.

I witnessed something very strange today. Nott and Mulciber had gone into the Forbidden Forest, so naturally I followed to see what they were up to. They came across a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. Mulciber, not surprisingly, wanted to torment it and kill it. Nott wouldn't allow it. I don't fully understand why. It's just a stupid bird, what does he care? There are millions more where that one came from. I've done in plenty of animals myself, and I am perfectly normal. Maybe Nott is the oddball.

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December 19, 2000

This paper seemed very familiar. At times, grading essays turned into a nightmare of words that all began to blend in with one another, but this was different. It was too familiar. Bayly leafed back through the stack of completed Potions essays until his eye caught a particular one. Removing it from the stack, he looked it over, his quasi-good mood extinguished. He held it next to the parchment he was currently marking, his gaze shifting back and forth between them. There was no doubt: one of these students had copied from the other, and done a pitiful job of it. What kind of student reproduces an essay word for word and doesn't expect to get caught?

Bayly sighed heavily. He still had to complete the rest, so he may as well get it done before confronting the little cheater…or cheaters. Had they worked together on this? He'd corrected only one more before his heart stopped in his chest: another one exactly like the first two! And this one had a name he'd have never believed—Therese Hawbecker. Aside from the basilisk travesty, she'd not stepped a toe out of line. She was highly intelligent, always got excellent marks. In fact, as he read through the assignment once more, he felt certain this was her work, her style, and the boys had copied from her.

"Damn it," he whispered into the cold, still air.

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"I've asked the three of you to stay after class because of these essays you wrote," Bayly explained, producing the parchments. He laid them out on the table in front of the children, facing the students. "Do you see anything unusual about them?" He regarded their faces carefully.

The pupils crowded in to read the papers, and suddenly Therese burst out, "You copied from me! You cheaters! Professor Young, it wasn't me."

Interestingly, the boys did not dispute her claim. Jonathan Avery attempted a grin that fell flat when he looked at the adult wizard. "Sorry. It's just you're so smart, and I always do bad at Potions." He ducked his head.

The other boy, Donald Pritchard, moved away from the others, shaking his head. "It was his idea! He stole it from her bag."

"And you felt compelled to replicate it?" asked Bayly. Both of these boys were in Slytherin House, Bayly knew them—and they had to know they'd be punished more than another student not in this professor's House. Come to think of it, why hadn't Oswald Quirke been in on this little deception? He was the last member of their firstie gang; then again, he was sorted into Ravenclaw by the Sorting Hat, he was inherently clever. He didn't need help.

"Professor—" Therese began again, pleadingly.

"I believe you, Therese. You may leave. You boys will serve detention with me tonight to rewrite that essay on your own. And be grateful you go home for holidays tomorrow, or I'd make it for a week." Was that really punishment enough? At Durmstrang, he'd have been beaten senseless for cheating; he couldn't very well advocate that. Yet this punishment seemed far too light. "Also, as your acting Head of House, I must assign additional penalty. When you come back from Christmas vacation, I'll let you know what it is. Go."

The lads scrambled from the room, only to find Therese waiting down the hall for them. No one else was around. They mumbled general apologies to her, and she answered with a lightning fast, hard spell that knocked them off their feet. Tumbling to the chilly stones, they held their stomachs, writhing in silent agony.

"Don't you ever do that again," she hissed. Motioning toward their common room with her wand, she added, "Go to your House before you get in more trouble."

Donald sat up, struggling to hold back the tears. "My brother's gonna tell on me."

"How will he know if you don't say anything?" Therese inquired, cocking her eyebrows.

"Every time a Slytherin gets in trouble, the rest of the House knows," Jonathan explained, getting to his feet. "If we'd lost points, they'd beat us up."

"He's gonna tell my dad and I'll get whipped," whimpered Donald.

Therese walked up so close her nose touched his. "Not if your brother is too distracted by his own issues to think of tattling on you."

"What issues?"

"That remains to be seen." She turned abruptly and strode off down the corridor.

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December 20, 2000

There he was. Graham Pritchard, seventh year. From behind a post Therese scanned the platform again; it was teeming with students waiting for the Hogwarts Express that would take them home for the Christmas hols. She'd considered getting him alone, but this worked out even better. Accidents happened all the time…it was most excellent if loads of witnesses saw the accident.

The young man was standing in a small group of Slytherins, his back to the tracks. Therese smiled wickedly. This was just too easy. A stumbling hex and he'd topple right into the path of the oncoming train. Wouldn't that be a shame? However, if she killed him there'd be an investigation, people would come to question them all…it was too risky for that. Besides, Donald loved his brother, and he'd probably sing like a canary concerning everything he knew about Therese if anything too awful befell the elder Pritchard.

Overhead, a flock of big, black birds swarmed past the station on their way to the Forbidden Forest. Now was the time. Therese aimed her wand surreptitiously at one of them and concentrated hard. The addled bird dove downward, straight at Pritchard. The gang around him shouted and fell back as the bird attacked, pecking and clawing the young man as he screamed and beat at it with his hands. His friends shot spells at the creature; however, since it was moving violently, several of them struck the boy as well. By the time one of them managed a hex that stunned the bird, Pritchard lay on the platform in a motionless heap, his face bleeding.

He'd live. He may carry a scar or two if the medi-witch tending him were incompetent, but aside from that he'd be fine. Nonetheless, it was doubtful he'd be thinking of tattling on his younger brother when he had so much more important things to talk about now. After all, they concerned him.

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December 20, 2000

It was that time of year again—time for the annual Christmas Ball. In lieu of a fundraiser, Narcissa had opted for a nice, quiet celebration with only family and friends…and most of the list of purebloods, including the Jugsons, Hawbeckers, Livingstons, Greengrasses—the list went on, though it did not include Daphne, since Sirius was not invited. She simply did not feel up to making small talk with people she neither knew nor cared for, nor did she want to argue with Lucius over ruining the party with the 'Mutt's' presence. Lucius had a cold way about him at times.

Udo Nott: she'd wrestled with that one, as she did every time there was a get together that included more than ex-Death Eaters. He'd been a staunch friend to Severus for many years, and he and Lucius got on well. If only he'd allowed himself to be surgically altered like the Goodmans and Marshal, she wouldn't have to worry about his glamour charm wearing off, or someone recognizing his voice. Well, it was what it was, and he was here. Her lips curled into a mocking smile; Nott was a very handsome wizard, yet the disguise he always chose was of an average, blond, ho-hum man with pale blue eyes. On the plus side, he looked nothing like his true self.

Quiet had been Narcissa's desire; it was hardly the word to describe how the event had turned out, though at least it still consisted only of those she'd invited. A tiny smirk flitted over her countenance. If any undesirables crashed the ball, there were plenty of men here who'd relish the chance to throw them out on their arses, with perhaps a curse or two to make sure they stayed out.

"Lucius, have you seen the children?" she asked.

Her husband instinctively glanced about him. "Aren't they with Draco?"

"They were," she said. With a slight thrust of her chin, she indicated the dance floor, where Draco was curled round Astoria, swaying to a waltz.

"He's not even keeping time," observed his father, frowning. Probably too busy thinking about Astoria's 'goodies'. He couldn't rightfully impugn the kid, he'd done the same with Narcissa at that age…and even now, if he were to be totally honest.

"No, he's making time," Narcissa snapped back. She'd find out what was what, and if Draco didn't have a good explanation for where the babies were, he'd better hope she couldn't find Lucius' cane!

She marched right up to the couple and tapped her son on the shoulder. He gave a little shrug and mumbled, "I'm not changing partners."

"Perhaps you ought to be changing nappies," Narcissa retorted, and her son's eyes flew open.

"Mother, sorry." He stood up and adjusted his velvety soft robes.

"I thought you'd agreed to watch your siblings during the party," Narcissa said.

"I did—I am—I mean, I was." He gulped. Rarely had he seen that dagger-eyed look coming from this witch. From Father, yes, it was fairly standard fare, but not from her. Somehow, as scary as it was coming from his sire, it chilled him coming from his mother.

She crossed her arms over her chest and began tapping her foot. Oh, how he hated it when she did that! "It's funny, son, but I can't seem to see them. Are they in bed? Or maybe they're hiding in your pocket?"

"I left them with Jacinta and Theo," he said softly. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"I—" she began when the music cut off abruptly, the song ended. Lowering her voice, she said in a warning tone, "It's fine. Next time, you let me know what's going on. I was worried."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, flushing to be scolded in front of Astoria.

Narcissa strode off, leaving the couple alone. Astoria said quietly, "You probably should have told her. You know how protective she is of her kids."

"I am one of her kids, you know," he replied, pulling her back into his arms. He wasn't upset, he didn't blame his mother. After all the trouble this family had gone through, all the frights and fears, she had every right to be extra cautious and overprotective. "Let's have a good time. I've missed you so much, I can't bear to let you go."

Lucius monitored the situation with Draco, on the off chance Narcissa might fly into a frenzy. It had been known to happen with him on occasion, if not to their son. Then he saw his wife calmly going the opposite way, to the room they'd left the cribs set up in for their own children and for Severus'.

Satisfied that there were not going to be fireworks indoors and that all was well, he turned around, coming nose to nose with his sister-in-law, dressed in a bright red, strapless party dress that hugged her slight figure and brought out a hint of curves. His first impulse, born of years of habit, was to recoil at almost touching a muggle-lover, but to his credit he maintained his composure and offered a light smile. Extending his hand, he lifted Andromeda's fingers to his lips for a brief kiss, his smile broadening and becoming genuine at her dismay.

"Lucius, what's got into you?" she laughed.

"Nothing, Andromeda," he murmured with a gesture to his left, where several couples were attempting to reproduce the difficult steps of an archaic dance. His grey eyes twinkled. "Would you care to accompany me? Show the youngsters how it's done?"

"I—alright," she said, looking confused and pleased at once. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where they proceeded to show off the effortless footwork that countless hours of lessons in their pureblood youth had produced.

"I'm glad you were able to come," he said in a low voice near her ear, not that he could have been overheard with the sound of the live band all around. "Christmas is a time for forgiveness, is it not?"

"I guess," she answered, her quizzical expression returning. He flipped her over his arm for a dip, and she gracefully complied before rising to whirl smoothly across the floor with him. "Do you have something on your mind, Lucius?"

Another twenty seconds or so passed in silence while they moved to the music and he gazed past her shoulder into nothingness, before he finally admitted, "Yes. I wish to apologize for all those years, the way I treated you….your family." He couldn't bring himself to say the mud—muggleborn's name or to mention Nymphadora, his niece that he'd never gotten to know. "I have no excuse, none that would hold water, at any rate."

Shocked at the frank and unexpected confession, as well as his refusal to try to justify his actions, Andromeda merely glided along with him, unable to think clearly. Her mind leapt from one point to another, alighting like a hummingbird on a flower, then flitting on to the next. Although she'd been two years ahead of Lucius, the two had been friends in school—not best friends, but there had been a camaraderie, a sense of fun and enthusiasm she missed. They'd shared a lot of enjoyable times before she found Ted Tonks; at this moment, Lucius reminded her of who he'd been in those days, before Death Eater lore had gotten to him.

The simple act of referring to her family saddened her; simultaneously, Malfoy's radical departure from his dark past cheered her, and the dichotomy made her feel as if she'd been split down the middle. In the last couple of years Lucius had made an effort to be kind to her, she'd not failed to notice it. At the same time, she experienced a resurgence of righteous indignation and resentment over the snubs he'd thrown her way for many years prior. Nevertheless, she'd honestly never anticipated an outright admission of guilt; she didn't quite know what to say or how to feel.

"How is Teddy?" he asked, breaking the tense silence.

"He's good, thank you. Harry is babysitting him."

Another final swirl and the dance ended. Amid the polite applause of the watching crowd, he led her to one of the small tables lining the ballroom. He poured a glass of champagne for her and one for himself. Forcing himself to look her in the eye, he said solemnly, "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you understand I am sincere in my regret. May we toast to the future, to the best for all of us."

He lifted his goblet to take a drink. Andy prevented him with a hand on his arm, dragging it down. She'd known Lucius when he was a boy and a teenager; as a man, he'd drifted so far off she hadn't wanted to know him any longer. Now he'd changed…again. Had holding grudges ever culminated in anything good? Maybe it was time to let it go, to move on. "I will toast to the future, to the best for all of us—and the best in all of us. I forgive you, Lucius."

The wizard's lips pinched tight and he nodded once. A single spot of wetness glistened in the corner of his eye, and he hurriedly averted his head to avoid allowing it to be seen. Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, he croaked, "Thank you, Andy. I believe I saw my dear wife waving to you." When Andromeda turned her head, Lucius wiped the pesky tear away. "My mistake."

In the room down the corridor, Narcissa set Khala next to her brother and stroked Ladon's hair back from his darling face as the sleepy child lay in the crib. Poor thing was exhausted. Two days ago Draco had come home, and the lad had spent almost the entire time clinging to his brother like a burr, even insisting on sleeping in Draco's bed—to the young man's vocal protest. Ladon had won out, of course, when his tantrum had produced a flash of unfocused magic that singed the tips of Draco's hair. He'd then made a snide remark about Brax being worse than the dragons he worked with. From what she could gather, neither of them had experienced a good night's rest. She'd expected Ladon to reenergize for the party, but evidently he'd been too overwrought.

"Thank you two for taking care of the children," she said to Theo and Jacinta, each of them holding one of the Snape twins.

"It's no problem," Jacinta said.

Theo grunted something under his breath that Narcissa didn't hear. After she'd left the room, he said, "And refresh my memory: why am I here taking care of a troop of brats?"

"Because two of them are my brothers, and I told Papa I'd watch them," Jacinta snapped. "And since when are my brothers brats?" She barely restrained herself from vocally noting that Missy was by far more of a brat than Aidan or Adriel could ever be…only Theo would probably agree with her.

"I thought we were here to have a good time at a party, not do babysitting," Theo grumped, throwing himself into the rocking chair and patting Aidan on the back to make him burp.

"If you don't like it, leave."

Theo glowered at her, yet made no motion to go. He'd committed himself to this task when he told Jacinta he'd help, and again when he'd allowed Draco to dump off the Malfoy kids on them as well. Another pat and Aidan burped noisily, then promptly threw up on Theo's shoulder. He groaned loudly. Jacinta plucked Aidan from him, laughing, and he wanted to be angry but—well, it was kind of funny. He joined in her merriment as he scourgified his robes.

"Hey, little guy, let's get you washed up so you can go to sleep and let your almost brother-in-law snog your sister."

Aidan kicked his legs and gurgled a reply, "Tse pa daba."

"Yeah, right," Theo said, grinning. He carried the boy to the loo across the hall, wet a clean cloth, and washed the baby's mouth and hands. When he returned, Jacinta had already lain Adriel in the crib he shared with his twin. Carefully he lowered Aidan in as well. "Now behave so I can spend time with Cinta. You'll understand when you get older."

The baby responded by rolling onto his side to face his brother, where he began to chatter excitedly in gibberish. Adriel answered in kind, thrashing his limbs and laughing at their conversation. Jacinta took Theo's hand to lead him to the bed, which had been shoved in the corner. Together they sat on the edge, facing the children.

"Seems weird to snog in front of them," she said.

"Why? They're too young to know or care. And the Malfoy kids have surely seen their parents going at it—not like that!" he finished, laughing. "Dirty mind."

"Takes one to know one," she shot back, kissing the tip of his nose.

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On the far side of the ballroom, a small group were gathered discussing the finer points of the muggle court system, or lack thereof. "I'm only saying that muggle justice is a joke. I've just told you about some of their cases," Marshal insisted. He downed what remained of his wine, only to find Cinchona refilling his glass immediately. He nodded in appreciation; Lucius sure did have well-trained elves.

"It's not exactly perfect with wizards, either," Jorab said. The subtle look he shot the other man was rife with implication, such as 'We're testaments to that fact' and 'We're not in prison, are we?'. As he ought to have expected, it seemed to go over Marshal's head entirely. He gave a disgusted shake of his head. "Look at that blood traitor Black. He got arrested and spent years in Azkaban without even a trial."

"I suppose that makes my case for me," Marshal said. "Why don't they use Veritaserum as a matter of course? Muggles, too."

"Muggles don't have Veritaserum," Aline responded. "But they do have a variation of it, and I don't really know why they don't utilize it. They can't overcome its effects like some wizards can." She glanced at Severus, who merely sidled closer and put his arm round her waist. He never talked about his life as a Death Eater in public.

"I suspect those in positions of authority aren't always interested in guilt or innocence; they're more concerned with how their own status will be affected," Severus drawled. Having worked for two megalomaniacs, he'd seen enough of it on both sides of the law to know whereof he spoke.

"Which may explain why the CPS does a shit job of prosecuting," Marshal concluded.

Aline wrinkled her brow. "Child Protective Services? What does that have to do with prosecuting cases?"

Severus leaned down to murmur in her ear, "Crown Prosecution Service, dear."

"Oh." Her face flushed. In America, those letter had a different connotation altogether. "Never mind."

"Liv, you look bored to tears. This is hardly the topic for a happy soiree. Would you like to dance?" asked Jorab. Without waiting for her reply, he nodded to those in the huddle and led her in the direction of the dance floor.

"Apparently the conversation is over. Aline, would you mind?" asked Severus, holding out a hand for her. She grinned, clasped his hand in hers, and the two headed out as well.

"See you, Marshal," she said, waving.

"Yeah, later," he agreed.

Marshal swilled the liquid in his glass, and nearly choked on the burning firewhiskey. Coughing and spitting, he wheezed several times, his eyes watering. Damned elf, he was supposed to have wine! Ah, well, either one worked to give him a buzz. His eyes trailed the Snapes briefly, then scanned the crowd. At a table not far off, he noted Dolph sitting with Bayly and his little wife…Gloria, that was her name. Why did he have such a hard time remembering that? Maybe because Bayly had made it plain he didn't want the wizard near her? Geez, all he'd done was insult the kid a little for fun, you'd think he'd committed a heinous crime—against her, that is. He held the gaze for several seconds, observing Dolph, whose line of sight aimed precisely at Aline Conn Snape and tracked her to the dance floor. She did look pretty fit in that forest green silk dress that accentuated all the right places.

"Who'd have thought?" said a voice to his right and behind.

Marshal whirled, wand in hand, and froze at his friend standing inches away, staring at Dolph as well. "Sorry." He replaced his wand in its pocket. "Thought what?"

"Dolph fancies Snape's wife," said Nott with a barely discernable tilt of his head in Dolph's direction. "I noticed it a long time ago, but I thought he'd got over it."

Marshal shrugged. It wasn't as though Dolph would ever try anything with Aline—not if he were sober, anyway, and not if he wanted to live to see the next day. He grinned to himself. Aline was no shrinking violet; if she didn't hex his balls off, Snape would, and then he'd torture him to death. It might be something to watch, if he didn't consider Dolph a friend. That was just wrong.

"He'll get over it, I imagine," said Marshal at last. "He got over Bella, didn't he?"

Nott let out a light snort. "Never understood what he saw in Bella to begin with. And she's nothing like Aline."

"Except in dueling. Aline kicks arse there," Marshal replied. He admired that. He slid into one of the seats nearby. "I didn't see your kids here—well, I saw Theo with Jacinta, and Missy running around somewhere in here. Not the younger boys."

"They come home in two days," said Nott, taking the seat beside him. "Beauxbatons keeps them longer than Hogwarts, but they're learning a lot. Good thing Fidelia went to school there and speaks French, or who knows what they'd be saying behind my back." He laughed, yet there was a melancholy behind the merriment.

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Marshal. It wasn't so much that he didn't care if Nott's children insulted him behind his back, which he really didn't; it was more that he knew they wouldn't. Nott was a good father, his kids loved him. He was lucky in many ways, even if he couldn't show his true face in public.

Jack Mulciber came wandering up, drink in hand. "Looks like Narcissa and Fidelia are planning to sing. Aren't you gonna come?"

"I wouldn't miss it," said Nott, springing from his chair. He adored his wife, including her lovely singing ability. He'd have to pretend she wasn't his wife here, in front of everyone, but he could still listen. Besides, Lucius and Narcissa had been telling people he and Fidelia were dating now that she'd come to terms with her husband's 'death'. It made him feel a little weird, but at least he got to be with her. If only he didn't have to use this stupid glamour charm!

He elbowed his way through the crowd with Jack to the front of the ballroom where a concert grand Steinway had been set center stage. Narcissa and Lucius were at the keyboard ogling each other in that way that made some uncomfortable, but not Nott; he and Fidelia had the same effect on people at times. Frankly, he thought Lucius and Narcissa were sweet together. How many marriages could survive the hell they'd been through with Voldemort living right there in their house? Torturing their son and Lucius…

For some reason he'd expected the Malfoys to break into a classical rendition of Beethoven, and when strains of "O, Holy Night" met his ears, a snorting laugh escaped him. Jack, who now had Glenna beside him, knocked him in the ribs to shut him up, though it wasn't strictly necessary. Fidelia's piercing gaze caught him, and she began to sing. Everything else fell away, there existed only himself and that lovely witch.

"I didn't know you could sing like that," said an obviously stunned Glenna amid the applause when the song ended. Applause not only for his wife, but for him!

Nott looked at Glenna, panic rising in his chest. He'd done it again, without even thinking! He couldn't afford to be careless, to let himself get swept away in Fidelia's eyes when he was in public, to draw attention to himself! "Uh…thanks."

He turn to bolt through the onlookers, but Jack held him fast, hissing in his ear, "Stay here, dumbass! You're in disguise. It's okay."

Yes, he'd momentarily forgotten. A disapproving glare from Lucius found its way to him, not unexpectedly. He'd likely get an earful later about laying low. Fidelia stepped to the front of the crowd and took his hand, smiling. God, how he loved that smile.

"You're all very gracious, but I think I'd like to spend some time with my man friend," Fidelia said, to the titters of several in the group. "Narcissa, you and Lucius can entertain."

"With a little help from their rugrat," said Theo, bursting forth holding Khala. He placed the tiny girl on the piano, standing up, his hands encircling her form till she got her balance. "You've got to see this."

"Mama! Fa'er!" she squealed. "I dance."

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged glances, as much in sheer curiosity as in wondering why their barely-one-year-old daughter wasn't asleep at this hour, and as one set to "Deck the Halls". Khala at first did nothing except stare round at the people, then she began to bob up and down, her stubby legs bending at the knees, her hands clenched in fists at her waist. A second later she added swaying, her head flopping left and right to the beat of the music.

"Look, darling, she dances like you," smirked Lucius, never missing a note.

"Clever, Lucius, oh so clever," responded Narcissa dryly, though she was heartily amused by the scene.

As Aline exited the loo, she spied Regulus near the ballroom door, leaning there with a tall drink in his hand, and her heart sank. He'd been doing so well. Severus and Lucius would both tear him a new one if they saw this! "Hey, Reg. How's it going?"

"Okay," he answered, his habitual grin spread over his handsome face. "Looking wickedly sexy there, Aline." He winked.

"I know you're only saying that because of the alcohol," she whispered, glancing about furtively. "What are you doing?"

His smile widened. "I'm not drinking. Wanna test it yourself? Just apple juice." He held it out, and she did indeed approach to sniff it.

"Why are you out here, then?"

Reg shrugged. "Kind of bored. I never really liked parties unless I was hammered. Since you all will kill me if I slip up, that's not an option now."

"We won't kill you," she said, relieved. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure. I may as well put to use those lessons my parents insisted on giving me." He extended a hand and bowed. "If I may?"

Aline laid her hand in his and the two entered the ballroom. Finding a good spot on the floor, they started a complicated step to the fast, happy tune Lucius and Narcissa were playing. Reg pulled her in tight and whirled her faster and faster until she felt the room spinning, and they nearly collapsed on the floor laughing.

"I like being dizzy—it's like being drunk," he said, and she wasn't entirely sure he was joking. They staggered to the side of the room, out of the way. "I notice Cissy didn't invite my dear brother."

"Did you expect her to?" asked Aline. "Lucius hates him."

"Can't blame him," muttered Reg, dropping into one of the chairs.

For a long moment Aline didn't respond. Everyone knew by now about the fiasco in Bulgaria, and it was not surprising Regulus should be upset over it—but almost no one knew what she'd just discovered on the dance floor when she'd held his hand, when a vision had overtaken her and she'd almost fallen. Reg had thought it was from dizziness, and she'd let him think it. Now he seemed to want to talk…she didn't like getting flashes from people this way, it made them uncomfortable, made them afraid to be near her lest she uncover their deep, dark secrets.

"Severus often bemoans the fact that Sirius is a massive jerk," she began, placing her hand on his right before deciding that probably wasn't a good idea if she was trying not to get flashes. "He says it in more colorful language, but that's the gist of it. He meant to tell you 'good job' on beating up Sirius."

Reg laughed lightly. "Thanks."

She paused, considering, then said, "As for myself, I'm sorry you're unhappy. It hurts to be estranged from loved ones. I believe Sirius will come around. He loves you, despite everything."

"So they say," Reg mumbled.

"Why don't you come over with us? Severus misses you."

"Yeah, okay." A shy smile had taken the place of his playful one. "I'm really glad you're my friend, Aline. I feel like I can talk to you more than to Snape or Nott or Lucius. Is that odd?"

"No, I don't think so…then again, many people think I'm weird," she said, shrugging. "I guess women are just better at listening instead of trying to fix your problems."

"Whatever it is, thanks. And lead the way."